


Nine Forty-Five in the Morning

by UAs_Fics



Category: South Park
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-11-18 01:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18110339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UAs_Fics/pseuds/UAs_Fics
Summary: On your or your soulmate’s sixteenth birthday, you get a clue to finding each other. Stan is 100% sure Wendy is his soulmate, so why does the universe think it should be Butters?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Technically set in the same universe as [‘Three Hours After Midnight’](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16437782), since I could not get the line about Cartman making fun of Butters out of my head. Enjoy~<3

* * *

From time to time around the lunch tables at South Park elementary, soulmates became the topic of discussion for a day or two. Usually, the topic was brought up in relation to some big event such as a celebrity finding theirs or when someone's older sibling turn sixteen.

Unfortunately, at Stan's table, the topic was most often brought up by Cartman while he was taunting Butters. 

"I bet your soulmate decks you in the face, Butters," Cartman said around a ketchup-covered chicken nugget, "for leaving them with your bad eye."

Butters pressed his lips into a line as he reached up and absentmindedly touched under his eyebrow. His fingers traced along the scar that ran through his eye and ended at the top of his cheek.

Butters didn't defend himself, instead turning his face down to his own tray. Something about this always bothered Stan. The very notion of hating one's soulmate was an impossible thought to even entertain! 

The bedtime stories say once people's souls were much bigger than they are now, but people were too happy and never left their own company, so the universe split the soul into different bodies, usually in two, but sometimes in three, four, or even more. 

The stories also say that the universe saw how desperately people were searching for their other halves and promised them all a clue: on their sixteenth birthday, they and their soulmate would switch one eye. That way, each person always had a little bit of their soulmate.

His mom always ended the story by telling him that when Stan found his soulmate, he'd be the happiest boy around.

If the story was true, then you couldn't hate your soulmate. They were meant to fill up the holes in your self. 

Kenny punched Cartman in the arm. "No one would hit their soulmate on purpose, dumbass."

When this topic came up, Kenny always jumped to Butters' defense. Maybe he did it because he was just a good person, or maybe he felt bad for scarring Butter's eye in the first place.

Cartman snorted. "If you woke up one day blind in one eye, you wouldn't be upset? What if you lost your job because of it? You'd have to learn to live life completely different than you do. You can't say that wouldn't be a pain in the ass."

Kenny opened his mouth, then shut it. Butters slumped farther down in his seat.

Cartman smirked. "My point exactly! Butters," he dropped his hand on Butters' shoulder, "You probably shouldn't even look for your soulmate. They'll hate you. It's better you just die al--"

Stan ripped open his ketchup packet and squirted the contents right in Cartman's face.

" _Can't you just shut up?_ " Stan threw the empty packet at him. His voice came out harsher and more defensive than he'd intended. This did not go unnoticed by the rest of the table. Even Kyle, who usually kept his head down during Cartman's ragging, raised an eyebrow.

Stan's face went red. He coughed into his hand.

"It's getting so old now, dude," Stan said in a cooler tone. "Besides, at least he'll be able to find his soulmate easily. Unlike you." 

Cartman glared over the top of the napkin he used to clean his face.

Now that the topic turned against Cartman, Kyle happily jumped in. 

"He's right, you know," Kyle sneered. "It'll be super easy for Butters to find his eye. The scar makes it distinct. Not like your eyes."

" _Hey!_ " Cartman gripped his hand into fists.

Kyle went on as if he hadn't spoken, "You and Kenny have eyes that are, like, exactly the same. What if you both have soulmates with brown eyes and you end up switching soulmates and your life would be miserable?"

Kenny gasped, a look of worry on his face. "Don't even joke about that, Kyle! I wouldn't want Cartman's soulmate. Fuck no!"

Before Cartman could reply, the bell rang. With eyes narrowed venomously, he stood and stormed off, leaving his tray behind. Kyle smiled triumphantly as he left to dump his tray. Kenny's face remained concerned a moment. He ran after Kyle, probably to confirm that he and Cartman couldn't mix up their soulmates.

Stan stretched. He grabbed his tray and turned to dump it when a warm hand fell on his forearm. 

Butters looked at him in awe. 

"Thank you," he whispered. "That was real swell of you to defend me like that."

Something in Stan's chest squeezed, but he didn't know why.

He shrugged. "Cartman's just annoying and jealous. You shouldn't let him get to you."

"Oh, I don't, usually," Butters admitted. He opened his mouth to continue, but Stan saw Wendy leaving her friends. 

"Butters, I gotta go," Stan told him. Butters clamped his mouth shut and slowly withdrew his hand from Stan. For a beat, he looked disappointed, but his cheerful disposition returned before Stan could really take it in.

He did notice, though, that where Butters' hands rested, a strange warm feeling began to grow a moment before it faded. Stan almost wanted the feeling back, but he shook the feeling off.

He needed to meet Wendy by the door before they were dismissed to class; they were going to hold hands the whole walk to their lockers.

* * *

A few years later, Stan woke with a foggy recollection of that day in the elementary lunchroom, but it faded seconds after. He laid in his bed, covers pulled over his head. He knew he needed to get up. Today was a busy day, after all.

That night he and Wendy were going on the most romantic date Stan could afford: an evening at the Italian restaurant in town. There would be tall candles and they would drink sparkling fruit juice out of stemmed glasses.

Stan couldn't wait until Wendy complimented on what a good job he'd done and how much she'd enjoyed it. 

Ever since they both turned fifteen, Stan had gone above and beyond to show her how much he cared, because he knew they would be soulmates. He'd known since third grade. When his birthday in October came and he woke up with her dark eye instead of his blue, it would be confirmed.

They'd live happily ever after.

Something tickled in the back of Stan's brain. He was forgetting something...

He groped around his bedside table for his phone. He clicked it on and a calendar reminder stared back at him.

Oh, right, today was Butters' sixteenth birthday. It was nine forty-three, and Butters said he was born at nine forty-five, so in two more minutes Butters could truly pass into adulthood and have his soulmates eye.

Stan almost felt jealous of the time he would have to wait. He brushed the feeling aside. What did it matter if he had to wait another month? He already had his life plan ready, unlike Butters.

Wendy would earn her degree in women’s and environmental studies while Stan earned his in veterinary sciences. They would live happily in a little house outside Denver with their pets — and maybe a few kids. They hadn't decided if they wanted any yet.

Their perfect life together was a little more than a month away.

Stan stretched up in bed, wincing at the light from the window, then finally stood. He still had a few hours before the party, but he might as well get up and shower now. Also, he had to remind his mom to iron his church pants for his date.

He shouldered open the door with a yawn.

Just after he took a step, everything around him changed. He stumbled back, gripping the wall, trying to remember how to breathe, and more importantly, how to see.

The world seemed flatter as if someone used a transform tool on a photograph. His head spun, trying to process the world around him. He blinked a few times, stumbling forward. His trek to the bathroom resulted in him bumping against a table he was sure hadn't ever jetted that far out into the hallway before. 

He missed the doorknob twice. He used both his hands to successfully find it on the third try. 

Rubbing his eye, Stan muttered, "The hell? Am I getting sick? No, I can’t get sick today. There is just something in my eye is all...”

Slamming the door behind him, Stan made his way to the toilet. He sat to do his business, phone in hand, still rubbing his eye.

Kyle was already up and texting him, as usual. He didn’t even have anything important to prepare for but Butters party at noon, unlike Stan. That was just how Kyle was. He didn't seem to understand they were teenagers. Sleeping until noon on Saturdays was a luxury they would soon lose.

His best friend asked if he was up and if he wanted to go play some basketball in an hour or two before heading to Butters' party.

Stan considered this before replying, "Maybe. Feeling weird this morning."

Kyle texted back almost instantly. "You think you'll be ok for your date?"

Kyle only asked because Stan hadn't shut up about the date all week long, and if something went wrong, Stan would whine about it for a week afterward. Stan knew that, but found himself thankful Kyle didn't say it aloud.

"I'm sure it's nothing." He paused then tacked on, "Do you know you can become a fourth depth blind?" 

He didn't think he'd accurately described how the world looked to him at that moment, but hopefully, Kyle would be able to understand regardless. They were best friends, after all.

Stan set his phone near the sink as he finished. He'd flushed and began to tighten the drawstring on his pants when his phone rang.

He rolled his eyes before pressing to accept the call.

"Hey — "

"You're going blind?" Kyle cut him off. Of course, always the mom friend, Kyle began to fret at the slightest indication of illness.

Stan turned on the sink to wash his hands. 

"No, it's nothing. A joke," He looked up towards the mirror as he washed, "nothing to wor...Oh my God."

"Stan? Stan! What's wrong?" Kyle's voice had a frown in it.

Shaking Stan pressed his stomach against the counter, looking closer at his face. 

"No, oh God, no, no!" He whispered. "This can't...no, no, _no_ — !"

"STAN!" Kyle shouted into his phone, leaving him thankful he left it on the sink and not against his ear.

Stan scrambled to pick up the phone. He missed hitting it with his hand, nearly sending it into the toilet, but snatched it before it took the plunge. He stared above Kyle’s call icon to the clock in the corner.

Nine forty-six AM.

Holding it to his ear, Stan whimpered, "Kyle, I need you to come over _now_. Don't ask questions, just come over and come to my room. Oh no. Oh shit. Hurry, please."

Before Kyle could ask any more questions, Stan hung up. 

He crouched down, hugging his knees to his chest. 

This couldn't be happening...

* * *

Kyle showed up in less than ten minutes. When he rushed into Stan's room, he was sweaty from running and had a worried expression plastered to his features.

Stan sat on the old trunk at the foot of his bed, curled in on himself. It once held toys and games, now it held books and old clothes and a shoebox full of love letters Wendy had sent him over the years.

The thought of Wendy made his chest ache. He squeezed himself into a tighter ball, heaving sobs.

Kyle made sure to shut the door before walking over. He set a hand on his back.

"Stan?" He ventured. "What's wrong? Are you ok? What can I do to help?"

"Nothing!" Stan choked out. "Nothing can be done! I'm fucked!"

Kyle sat beside him on the trunk. The fact it still supported both their weight after all these years was a sign of its craftsmen's ship. He rubbed circles between his shoulder blades until Stan cried himself out. Years of dealing with them had taunt Kyle a lot of how to handle Stan's emotional outbursts without making the matter worse.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Kyle reassured him. "Come on, dude, what's wrong."

Shaking, Stan slowly raised his head and met Kyle's eyes.

Kyle's face blanched. 

Inside Stan's head were two different colored eyes, both ringed with red. one was the same sapphire color that had always been there, but the other was a milky blue with a scar tearing through it. The scar in the eye did not extend through to the flesh, as Kyle knew it should.

"Oh my..." Kyle's mouth gaped. He raised his hand, grasping Stan's face to pull him closer. "Holy shit." 

"This can't be fixed," Stan whimpered, a fresh batch of tears spring up. 

"No, but, um," Kyle wracked his brain a moment, "maybe it's _not_ his. Maybe it's someone else's?"

It was a feeble lie, and they both knew it.

"It's Butters birthday today and it's Butters' eye!" Stan wailed. "We're...we're..." He couldn't bring himself to say ‘soulmates.’ 

He and Butters couldn't be soulmates, because he and Wendy were! Wendy completed him. Wendy was supposed to be with him forever. Not Butters!

Kyle chewed his lip. He wrapped his friend in a comforting hug.

"What are you going to do?"

"I dunno." Stan sniffled. "Die, maybe? Drink?" 

Actually, that second one didn't seem like a bad idea. In the back of his mind, he remembered his dad hiding some of his expensive wine in the attic. If he could get Kyle to leave...

"You're not doing either of those. Kenny, Cartman, and I will do another booze sweep of your room. Don’t test me," Kyle told him sternly. His friend took a breath before pulling back. He stroked his chin in thought.

"Do you want to talk to Butters about this? It's still early, so no one else should be there for the party. Or do you want to talk to Wendy first?" Kyle prioritized.

His stomach turned. Stan nearly vomited on his shoes.

He didn't want to talk to either of them. Wendy would be so disappointed. All those years building their relationship, only to have it snatched from them by some cruel trick of the universe?

Anger began to boil in his stomach to replace the unease. He wanted to be mad at Butters, but he knew it wasn't his fault. The universe chose this fate for them well in advance. So he pointed his rage towards fate and the universe and swore when he died, he and God would have a long talk about this.

Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, Stan sniffled.

"Butters lives closer, but I want to talk to Wendy," He muttered, grabbing Kyle's wrist. He looked up at him. "I can't walk worth a shit because of this. My depth perception is gone. Could you help me out and drive me there?"

Kyle nodded. "Yeah. I'll drive. Let me run home and get my wallet. You get dressed."

* * *

Stan slumped down in the front seat of the old minivan. The seatbelt pressed against his lower lip. Now the Thanks to the sunglasses he wore, the world bathed in a dark blue tint.

Kyle slammed down on the brakes. The seat belt slipped from his chin against his neck, choking him as he lurched forward.

"Sorry!" Kyle blurted out. Kyle only passed his permit test recently, and gradual stops still gave him trouble. Technically, he wasn't even supposed to be driving without an adult in the vehicle, but both of them agreed this counted as an emergency and borrowed the minivan without asking. 

Stan rubbed his neck, sitting up correctly. Kyle flipped on the blinker as they pulled into Wendy's driveway. Her house loomed over Stan like a hangman’s noose. He rubbed his neck as he prepared to be punished for a sin he didn’t chose to commit.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Kyle asked, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

"No," Stan shook his head. "I'll do it on my own."

Stealing himself, Stan unbuckled and pushed open the door. He marched up. His heart threatened to escape his chest as he knocked.

Mrs. Testaburger opened the door after a moment’s wait. She looked at him with an eyebrow raised. He'd never noticed that her eyes were two different shades of grey before. 

"Why, good morning, Stan." She tilted her head. "What are you doing here? It's a little early for your date, isn't it?"

"Emergency," He said. At her concerned expression, he amended, "School emergency. I left my homework sheet at school and wanted to copy Wendy's." 

Mrs. Testaburger let him inside, though she didn’t look like she totally believed his lie. With the reminder to leave the door open in his ears, he carefully dragged himself up the steps towards Wendy's room.

The door was open. He walked in and purposefully shut it. Wendy jumped from her laptop at the noise, spinning around. She was fully dressed and ready to take on the day. Guilt gnawed his stomach as he realized he was about to ruin her Saturday before it began.

"Stan?" She frowned. "What are you — ?" 

Before she finished, the tears came up again. Stan found himself on his knees with his face buried in her stomach.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He sobbed. "It's not my fault, but I'm sorry!"

"What's not your fault?" Wendy pushed him back. She reached to remove his sunglasses. The moment her eyes landed on his, she gasped. The sunglasses hit the floor.

The look of shock, hurt, and betrayal on her face made him want to die even more. She took a breath, soothingly stroking his head.

A few more whimpers escaped his throat, but no words. What could he say to that face?

"Oh, oh boy," she muttered. "Is that..?"

"Yeah.." Stan nodded as he rested his cheek on her lap. "Who else's could it be? It happened this morning."

He wanted her to hug him, hug him so hard that the universe would see it made a stupid mistake and fix this situation. In a feebly attempted, he shut one eye. Out of Butters' eye, the world was nothing but darkness. No, the universe didn't fix its mix up. 

_Because the universe is an idiot_ , Stan decided.

"Have you told him?" She asked, voice tight. “What did he think?”

Stan shook her head. "No, I...I can't, Wendy. He...I can't."

In all honesty, Stan didn't know what Butters would think. In fact, he'd been purposely dismissing any thoughts of Butters since he found out. 

If he never let Butters' into his mind, then he couldn't start to think about how he _felt_ about him. For the last few years, he tried his best to only think about his feelings for Wendy.

When he was thirteen and he realized that his attractions extended beyond just girls — and beyond just Wendy — he’d forced himself to ignore any line of thought that might mess with his and Wendy’s life plan together. He already taught himself to ignore other girls like that, it wasn’t too difficult to extend that to other genders as well.

Now he focused all that learned ignorance towards his feelings to Butters. 

Wendy hugged him to her chest. "It's ok, Stan. I'm not mad at you. I understand." She kissed the top of his head. She tried to hide it in the soothing tones, but Stan still heard the hurt in her voice. 

"I don't want this," he muttered. "I don't know what to do."

"You'll have to tell him, sooner rather than later. You don't want someone else realizing it's your eye before he has."

Stan wanted to vomit again.

“I can't. I...I don't want to,” he whispered, shaking. “Wendy, don't you see? It's _Butters_. Butters is...you know!” 

She set her mouth in a line and shook her head.

“No. I don't know,” she replied.

Stan fumbled to find the words to describe what he meant. Only as he thought about it, he couldn't explain it to himself. It was tempting to say Butters was social suicide, but he dashed that idea. Butters had made himself a nice little niche in the social ladder. Not really super popular, but not hated or mocked like he used to be, either. 

Even then, Stan knew most people would jump to the defense of soul mates if someone tried to mock them.

Finally, Stan told her quietly, “He's not you. I want you to be with me forever. You’re supposed to be the one to complete me. Not him. If I don't see him, then maybe I can still pretend its a mix-up and it's you and...I love you.”

Wendy continued to pet his head but didn't speak. He saw pity on her face now. His lips trembled. He wanted to scream. Go outside to yell and shout until everything was as it should be. He and Wendy were together forever and Butters was happy with someone else. 

Instead, he clenched her tighter to him, trying not to bawl like a child again.

“I love you too, but,” her voice cracked, and so did Stan's heart, “you're not supposed to be with me.”

“Yes, I am!” Stan countered, “I've loved you since second grade. I don't love Butters!”

“How do you know?”

Stan's voice fell silent in his throat. Truthfully, he couldn't answer. For a moment, something pushed up in him. The feeling was familiar, but Stan couldn’t put a name to it.

He shoved the feeling down as hard as he could.

“But...I want you,” he tried one last time. Wendy opened her mouth, but a knocking cut her off.

Kyle stood in the doorway with a frown.

“Sorry,” He apologized. “My mom called. She isn't happy I took the car without asking — and drove illegally.” He added the last part under his breath.

Stan nodded stiffly. There was nothing else he needed to say to Wendy that wasn’t more pleading and begging.

He slowly stood. Wendy grabbed his wrist. She pulled him down to kiss him, but not on the lips, on the cheek.

“Talk to him Stan, ok? Call me if you need me.” She whispered. 

“Ok, I will,” he promised before heading to meet with Kyle.

When Stan shut the door behind him, he heard her start to sob.

* * *

Mrs. Broflovski stood in the Marsh's driveway with Stan's parents to her left. A strangled whimper came from Kyle's throat when his mom's eyes fixed through the windshield at him. He took a breath, steeling himself before he opened his door.

“Young man! What is the meaning of this?” His mother gestured to the car. “You don't have a full license. You can't drive without me or your father in the car with—”

“It's my fault, Mrs. Broflovski,” Stan cut in as he left the passenger side. 

Stan noticed the mismatch eyes their parents had. Brown and hazel on his dad. Blue and green on his mom. Pale grey and black on Mrs. Broflovski.

Mrs. Broflovski covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my...”

“Wow.” His dad whistled. “Huh. Will, uh, will you look at that.”

At that moment, Stan realized he'd left his sunglasses on Wendy's floor. He winced. There was no way they didn't know whose eye he had. Knowing his parents and Mrs. Broflovski, all the other parents would know by church tomorrow, and probably Bu— 

He cut off that thought.

“It's my fault,” he repeated. He noticed how raw his voice sounded and swallowed his spit a few times. It didn't help.

“I wanted to talk to W-Wendy.” A shuddering breath and he went on, “I can't really walk well right now, half blind and all, so Kyle drove me. Sorry, Mrs. Broflovski.” 

“N-no, it's ok, honey,” Mrs. Broflovski told him an overly sweet, but understand voice. “We'll let it slide this once.”

Stan nodded and walked past them up the walk. As he passed her, his mom grabbed his arm. He met her eyes before he sighed and shook his head at the unasked question on her face. 

_Have you talked to Butters?_

“I'm going to go lie down,” he said after escapring her grasp.

From the car, Kyle called, “I'll text you later, dude. Um...stay strong?” 

He sounded like he didn't know what to say. Luckily, Stan didn't know what he wanted to hear.

* * *

Stan laid face down on his bed for either weeks or hours. At this point, he wasn't sure and didn’t care. He went downstairs only once to grab a glass of orange juice and untoasted Pop-Tart. He didn’t talk to either of his parents as he grabbed his snack, though he felt them keep worried eyes on him the whole time. Even Shelley didn’t tease him when he passed her in the hall.

Stan tried to keep his mind blank. He didn't want to think about the situation. He didn’t want to think at all. It was a foolish idea to think if he ignored it, it would go away, but for the time being, he was willing to be a fool.

A ping from his phone foiled his attempts at keeping his mind empty.

Holding it above his face, he unlocked his phone and opened the Instagram notification. Kenny tagged him in a post.

Cheerful selfie of Kenny and Butters stared back at him. Kenny flashed a peace sign while Butters winked his eye at the camera.

 _No, my eye,_ Stan thought bitterly. 

The post itself was a generic birthday post, wishing Butters well and ending with “this party is gonna be lit! Can't wait to see everyone there.” followed by all the username mentions.

Stan glared at the Butters in the selfie. If they were soulmates, then how can he be so happy? If Stan was miserable, then Butters should be, too. It was only fair.

In a fit of anger, Stan went to Butters’ profile and blocked him. Then he went onto every other social media site they shared and blocked him, from Twitter to Youtube to the Facebook account he never used, he blocked Butters on every single one.

As he finished blocking him on Steam, Stan let the phone fall to his stomach. He hoped blocking Butters would make him feel better, and it did, for all of a minute.

Then the guilt set in for being childish and petty. 

Like before, he reminded himself this wasn't Butters’ fault. He didn't get a choice in the matter any more than Stan did.

After some time, Stan rolled to his side as a change of scenery. His gaze lingered on some of the trophies and medals displayed along his shelf.

With such poor sight in one eye, how was he supposed to play football? Or run track? Or basketball? He had to hold tight to the stair railing just to make sure he didn't trip over his feet. There was no way he could catch a ball or jump a hurdle.

 _Hadn't Butters played football after he lost his sight?_ Stan remembered suddenly. _Back in fourth grade, when the game was changed to sarcastaball or whatever?_  
He recalled Butters being ok at football, but exceptional at sarcastaball. What caused them to end that sport again? Some scandal about...

He flushed all the way up to his ears then pulled his pillow over his face. 

Why, _why_ did his soulmate have to be Butters?

Stan lowered to his pillow under his chin. He tried to shoot a text to Kyle but kept pressing the wrong letters. It took him nearly a half a minute to finally fix all his mistakes and make the text readable.

“Are you at the party?” He sent.

Five minutes later, Kyle replied, “Yeah. Are you ok?”

“Sure,” Stan responded. “Did you see Butters? Did he have my eye?”

He winced at his question, but sent the whole text. It was stupid, but he needed confirmation.

“Yes. It's yours.” came the simple answer. 

Stan looked at the cursor bar, debating what to say. 

He typed out “did he say anything about me?” then deleted it. Next, he typed, “does he know I'm his soulmate?” He deleted that too. Before he could finish his third attempt, Kyle texted him.

“I told him you were sick and couldn't make it. He looked disappointed.”

Stan frowned. Was Butters feeling that way because they were soulmates and the universe was forcing him to? No, Stan shook his head at the thought, that’s just how Butters was. He was a nice guy and Stan’s friend. Of course, he’d be sad he didn’t show on his big day.

_Would I be disappointed if it was the other way around? _He thought on that a moment.__

__Would he? He and Butters weren’t best friends, not like he and Kyle, but somehow Stan felt that if Butters didn’t show up to something Stan invited him too, even a big party like his sixteenth birthday, he would be disappointed, at least, a little bit._ _

__“Thanks for covering for me.”_ _

__A couple of minutes, then “NP. Call me if you need anything.” came in reply. Stan was about to shut his phone down and continue staring at the ceiling when another text came._ _

__He lifted his phone to check, assuming it was from Kyle, but was instead greeted with Butters’ smiling seventh-grade face looking back at him from the message icon._ _

__“Hey! I heard you were sick. :^( I hope you feel better soon. If you’d like, I’ll save you a piece of cake. :^)” Butters said._ _

__For a moment, he felt scared. In his mind, he knew his knee jerk reaction should have been to throw the phone across the room to avoid talking to Butters, but it wasn’t. Instead, he felt that same warm feeling again. His thumb moved of its own accord, pressing Butters’ icon to bring up the full picture._ _

__The start of puberty was weird for everyone in his class: pimples, voices cracking, growths spurts, hair showing up all over, limbs not growing in tune with everything else._ _

__Stan had been aware of that from the day Kenny’s voice suddenly dropped in the middle of a conversation at the bus stop._ _

__Butters was no exception to the curse of hormones._ _

__In seventh grade, he looked like a brick on stilts: long, thin legs, but a compact, almost rectangular, torso. Even on a good day, he had pimples on his cheeks and forehead and, not unlike Stan himself, it took a little while for the concept of personal hygiene to really kick in as an everyday task._ _

__Stan stared at the picture, unsure of the feeling in his chest, then he opened Instagram and went to Butters’ profile. He unblocked him after a second’s consideration, then started scrolling._ _

__He didn’t stop until he hit the very bottom, then slowly made his way up. Through years of photos, Stan watched Butters grow up before him._ _

__He smiled to himself a few times when he saw photos of any of the phases Butters went through: Paladin Butters, Professor Chaos, little league and the other sports, all the way up to his current extracurriculars, choir and cheer squad._ _

__For some reason, Stan felt happy seeing all these pictures — the proof of Butters growing up alongside him._ _

__When he finally got back to the top, his heart skipped a beat._ _

__The newest photo was of Butters and Clyde, toasting pizza slices to the camera. Stan’s sapphire colored eye looked back at him from Butters’ face._ _

__This time, the knee jerk reaction to throw the phone took hold. It hit the carpet and slid until the phone half-disappeared under a pile of clothes. He almost hoped he broke it, but he didn’t get up to check. Instead, he let out a cry of frustration._ _

__Someone knocked on the door._ _

__“Stan? Are you alright?” his mom asked._ _

__“No. No, I’m fucking not, Stan groaned, burying his face in the sheets._ _

__The door opened and two sets of feet gently padded in. The bed sunk down before his mom put a hand on his shoulder. He turned towards them, only to realized that he couldn’t see them on that side, so he sat up._ _

__His dad set a hand on his mom’s back. They both wore the same, sympathetic smile._ _

__“Your mother and I were talking,” his dad started, “and we want you to know we’re here for you if you need us.”_ _

__Stan shrugged in reply. “I don’t want this,” he muttered. “I want to stay with Wendy. I don’t love — ” his voice cracked, “I do not love Butters.”_ _

__His dad chewed his lip then asked, “And how do you know you don’t?”_ _

__Stan glared. “I’ve been in love. I love Wendy, and I don’t feel that way about him.”_ _

__Neither of them looked convinced, but Stan wasn’t surprised. They never took his feelings seriously._ _

__He focused his gaze on the Nike logo on his socks._ _

__“Well, Stan,” his mom put his hand on his knee and squeezed, “you haven’t talked to him since he turned sixteen, have you? Soulmates are complicated. Maybe your feelings will change.”_ _

__“Or,” his dad cut in, “maybe you’re not in love love with him. You know your Uncle Jimbo and Ned are soulmates, and their just good friends.”_ _

__Stan’s head snapped up. He stared at his dad with wide eyes._ _

__“Oh my...that’s it. Friend soulmates! That has to be it.” A smile spread across his face. “How could I be so stupid?” He hit his forehead with the heel of his palms. “Butters is straight. He couldn’t be interested in me like that anyway! Everything makes sense now. Thank you, thank you!” Stan threw his arms around his mom’s shoulders, then his dad’s._ _

__With that, he scrambled to his feet and started towards the door. “I need to go take a shower. I love you, Mom and Dad. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”_ _

__Finally, his life plan was back on track._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this to the wrong fic and had to fix it. oooops...>>  
> also sorry for the wait. My laptop died last week and I just got it fixed.

Stan's sobs permeated out from inside the restroom while Eric, Kenny, and Butters waited outside. Eric kept shifting the basketball under his arm, dribbling it occasionally. Kenny laid on his stomach, poking a frozen, dead bird. Butters shifted from foot to foot. 

He hoped Stan was alright. During one of their games of HORSE, Stan let out a wail that made Kyle miss his shot and earn an ‘R’ before rushing into the park restrooms and locking himself in a stall. Not one of them had any idea what set him off. All they knew was he had been looking at his phone at the time.

The thought of his good friend being in distress made Butters’ chest squeeze.

Kyle opened the restroom door. His face was tired and twinged with annoyance.

“What's up with Stan?” Eric bounced the ball. “Scared he was going to lose?”

Kyle shook his head. “Wendy, again.”

A round of groans rose up. 

“ _Again?_ What this time?” Eric demanded. 

Kyle shrugged. “Dunno. He's blubbering too much for me to tell.”

Kenny jumped to his feet. He wiped the dirt and snow from his front as he spoke, “He'll be in there a while. Let's just keep playing.”

Kyle snatched the ball from Eric mid-bounce.

He cut off Eric's “‘EY!” by saying, “Yeah. You're right. He can join us went he’s done.”

Butters’ mouth gaped as his friends headed back to the basketball court. 

How could they just leave Stan when he was hurting? Sure, at this point, Stan's emotional breakdowns were repetitive in nature, but it was _mean_ and downright _unfriendly_ of them to abandon him! 

Butters ran in front of them, arms out, and told them exactly that.

Eric rolled his eyes and Kyle sighed. Even Kenny, who usually took Butters’ good-hearted actions in stride, looked annoyed, but Butters stood his ground.

To Kyle, he accused, “You're being a bad best friend. You have to help him feel better. Rub his back and tell him it'll be ok.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes. “I have tried before, Butters. I've tried dozens of times when shit goes down between him and Wendy. As his _best friend_ , I can tell you it's best to let him cry himself out, then try to help, if he even wants it.” 

Kyle dribbled past Butters without looking at him. Purposely pushing him with his shoulder as he did so.

“If you want to listen to him cry for twenty minutes, go for it.” Kyle squared his feet as he prepared to shoot from halfway across the court. “You go be his best friend, see how much fun it is when he's like this.”

Kyle shot the ball. It missed and bounced into the dirty snow on the side of the court. Eric sneered a laugh at Kyle for his lack of skills. Kyle threw him the bird before heading to retrieve the ball.

Kenny pressed his lips into a line.

“Butters,” he started, “listen, Kyle's right. Stan gets better after some alone time to think. You don't need to go comfort him. It's not your job.”

“Then who's job is it?” Butters snapped. Kenny flinched back at the sharpness in his tone, but he didn't care. He was getting sick and tired of everyone brushing off Stan's emotions like this. Just because they happened often didn’t mean they weren’t important! 

Before Kenny could answer, Butters spun on his heels to march towards the park restrooms.

He took one stealing breath and pushed open the door.

Instead of sitting in one of the stalls, as Butters expected, Stan leaned against the space between the first stall and the urinal. His body tightened into a ball as sobs shook his frame.

Butters took a careful step forward.

“Heya, Stan,” he greeted with as much cheerfulness as he could muster.

Stan froze then slowly turned from the wall to look at Butters. Tears streaked down his face. He sniffled, wiping a line of snot from his upper lip with his sleeve.

“What do you want, Butters?” Stan groped under the stall wall into the stall itself. “You'd better not be here to give me that same speech about appreciating the sunshine when it rains or whatever. I don’t want to hear it.”

He pulled some toilet paper from the stall and coiled it around his hand to blow his nose.

“I, uh, I ain't,” Butters stammered.

He had no idea what his plan was, in fact. ‘Make Stan feel better’ had been his end goal, but what was he supposed to do to get there?

He twiddled his thumbs, looking away.

Finally, he asked, “What happened? Did you and Wendy break up again?”

Stan blew his nose.

“No.” He still sounded stuffed up. “It's...it's...” He sighed and tried to toss the toilet paper into the trash can near the door. He missed.

“It's...?” Butters prompted, carefully bending down to pick up the missed shot.

Stan whimpered again. “It’s nothing. Go away.”

Butters dropped the toilet paper into the trash can where it landed into a pool of what Butters hoped was lemon soda.

“Com’on, you can tell me. I promise not to laugh if it’s silly,” Butters told him earnestly. 

Stan looked him up and down before sighing. “Fine, whatever, if you really want to know, then I’ll tell you.” He straightened up against the stained wall but didn’t stand. 

“Wendy stood me up, or, no, she...” He ran his hand through his hair. “I had this date planned, you see. The theatre is playing this foreign movie she really wanted to see, and I got tickets for us.”  
“It took me nearly a month to save up enough to get them, and have extra for popcorn and drinks and stuff.” Stan whimpered. “I couldn’t get the new Terrance and Phillip comic, or get a milkshake with Cartman after class on Friday. I...I...”

Tears welled up in his eyes.

“I worked really hard to make a nice date for her, but the volleyball team made it to state. They’re playing this weekend. She can’t go on our date and...” He sobbed. “I worked hard! It’s not fair!”

Butters frowned. He walked towards him and crouched. Setting a warm hand on his shoulder, he squeezed.

“That really isn’t fair,” he agreed, “but I’m sure she’ll appreciate that you worked so hard for her.”

Stan shrugged. “She will — she always does — but I wanted to her to be happy with me _after_ she got to see that boring Estonian war movie. I know for a fact I’d get a kiss for suffering through it for her.”

He gritted his teeth. “It’s not even an _action_ war movie. It's a 'period piece,' drama and talking. No trench warfare or anything interesting! I was totally willing to sit through it reading all those subtitles for her.” 

Crossing his arms, he glowered to the side as he muttered about the volleyball team being too skilled for their own good.

Butters held his lower lip between his teeth. 

“Oh, um, that’s a real bummer.” was all he could say.

He might not enjoy watching the girls’ volleyball team play, but they were the pride of the school this year. There was no way Butters could in good faith say Wendy was in the wrong — not that Stan was in the wrong either. 

_Does Stan even want someone to blame?_ He wondered. Whenever he had to deal with Eric, Eric always wanted someone to blame for whatever happened, even if it was Eric's fault in the first place. Would that make Stan feel better, or did he want Butters to fix it? Could Butters fix this?

“Well, um, I can go to that movie with you,” Butters offered. “I’ll wear a wig and you can pretend I’m Wendy. I’ll even buy the popcorn. You can get your comic then.” 

Stan fixed him with a questioning look, so Butters went on, “And, and, and! I can wake you up during the boring parts. We can make fun of the melodrama together or throw Swedish Fish at the teens making out in front of us!”

Stan’s lips twitched up. He snickered into his hand, then wiped his eyes with the heels of his palm.

“That’s stupid, dude,” Stan told him. “I’m not going to that movie if Wendy isn’t with me.”

Butters flinched back. He didn’t know why Stan’s rejection hurt as much as it did. It wasn’t like his offer was meant to be taken seriously anyway. 

“Well, um, we can do something else,” Butters suggested meekly. Suddenly, all he wanted was for Stan to accept his invitation to spend time alone with him.

Stan stood. He wiped a scrap of toilet paper from the back of his pants with a grimace.

“Nah, I think I’m going to just go to the volleyball game. If I cheer her on really loudly, maybe I can still get a kiss on the cheek out of it when they win.” He smirked to himself. “I’ll even drag Kyle with me. He’s my super best friend, so it’s only right he suffers with me.”

A pang hit Butters in the chest. He didn’t know why. These bursts of emotions were making him uncomfortable. Hopefully, they would stop before Stan really noticed them — though Stan seemed so focused on his problem, he probably wouldn’t notice anyway.

For some reason, that thought made the feeling in his chest worse.

“Well, alright then!” Butters forced a smile. “That sounds like a super idea, Stan! I think Wendy would appreciate that even more than some silly European movie that doesn’t even have trenches in it.”

Stan grinned back at him. Something else in Butters twisted, but this time, he didn’t mind the new, unnamed emotion. It made him feel warm.

Before he could dwell on his strange flux in feelings, the bathroom door opened. Eric poked his head in, eyebrow raised.

“You two done making out yet? Kyle’s being a _fucking cheater_ in our one-on-two game.” He scowled over his shoulder.

From behind him, Kyle yelled, “I’m not cheating! I’m better than you and Kenny!”

"Screw you!” Eric snapped back. To the boys in the bathroom, he ordered with a jab of his finger, “Stop being emotional and shit and come play basketball.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll be out in a minute to play on your team.”

Eric fixed him with a warning look that said Stan better not take too long before shutting the door. More muffled yells and insults came from outside. Even Kenny seemed to be accusing Kyle of cheating this time.

Stan splashed water across his face, then he turned to Butters.

“Come on, dude, let’s go. You can referee and make sure Kyle’s not cheating.” He paused. “And, um, thanks. Wish Kyle understood how to help as well as you do. You should give him pointers some time.”

Butters nearly had to stabilize his balance against the urinal. That warm feeling grew inside him so strong and so fast, Butters felt like he might die. 

He didn’t know why, but he was alright with that.

* * *

Butters awoke on his sixteenth birthday with a vague, pleasant feeling in his chest that was quickly replaced with disgust as the smell of dirty feet hit his face.

He opened his eyes to find Kenny’s socks, his big toe peeking through a hole in one, just inches from his face. With a strangled gasp, he bolted up and pushed Kenny’s legs away. The resulting push shoved his legs off the bed, soon taking the rest of Kenny with them.

Kenny blinked a few times before sitting up and groggily looking around. 

“Wha...?” He asked around a yawn.

Butters whispered, “Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to push you off the bed.”

Kenny nodded in understanding before rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“I’ll let it pass this once,” he gave a thumbs up, “since it’s your birthday.”

Butters stared at him a moment before a grin broke across his face.

“Oh, my gosh! You’re right!” He touched his scarred cheek. “What time is it? Is it close to nine? Did my eye already change?” 

Butters scrambled to check his phone: just half-past nine. Only fifteen minutes left until his birthday alarm went off. 

Kenny shook his head. “Nothing yet.”

Butters shook with excitement. “Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh boy! I can’t wait to finally get to meet my soulmate!”

Kenny hauled himself back onto the bed. “Yeah. I’m sure you’ll find them in no time.” His voice held a cautiously optimistic tone. 

Statistically, finding one’s soulmate was a rarity. In all likelihood, Butters wouldn’t ever meet his soulmate, but that didn’t stop him from romanticizing what would happen if he did.

If he met them early enough, he could help teach them how to live with monocular vision. He could already feel the warmth of his soulmate’s skin as he gingerly held their hand while helping them learn to carefully pour orange juice again.

Then, of course, his soulmate would give him a kiss for helping, and they’d sit side-by-side enjoying their juice on pleasent spring morning—

Kenny elbowed him in the ribs. “I know that face. Either you’re thinking about getting all gooey-eyed with your soulmate or,” here, he winked, “thinking about making out with me.”

Butters snorted and pushed Kenny’s shoulder. “That happened once.”

Kenny hummed. “But it still happened. You admitted it, birthday boy.” He clasped his hands together and held them to his collar bone before pitching up his voice. “‘Oh, Kenny, I just want to suck your face all day. I think you’re the hottest boy in the whole class. Don’t tell anyone though! It’s a secret!’”

“I didn’t say that!” Butters defended. He might have said something _like_ that, but it wasn’t that exactly. Well, except for the last part. Kenny recited that spot on. 

“Close enough.” Kenny shrugged. “Either way, you had a crush on me and think I’m hotter than the freshly baked bread, and for that, I am honored.”

Butters laughed. “I had a crush on you — _and_ Stan, Craig, and most the girls in our grade, and all the Kardashians at one point. Don’t go thinkin’ your special, Kenny.” 

Kenny pouted in mock disappointment. He stood abruptly before marching to his backpack on the desk chair. 

“Fine,” He said, fishing out a pair of jeans, “if I’m not special enough for you, I’ll take my leave.” He dropped his pajama bottoms to expose his boxers. “Enjoy the view, while it lasts. You’re not going to be seeing it anymore.”

Butters laughed, standing. He headed towards the clothes he’d set out the night before: nice slacks, new pale blue button up, and his favorite suit jacket.

Though he knew it wouldn't happen, on the small chance his soulmate did come with one of his relatives or friends, he wanted to make the best first impression possible.

“Kenny, you’ll make someone a really good soulmate someday. They’ll always be smiling,” Butters chirped as he removed his sleep shirt.

As he went to toss the shirt, his worlded shifted. He stumbled, reaching up to touch his tingling eye. Kenny frowned, taking a step forward.

“You ok—”

The alarm on Butters phone went off with a chiptune version of the ’Happy Birthday’ melody. They both jumped and looked at each other.

Kenny’s face lit up. He dashed forward to grab hold of Butters cheeks. His eager eyes and nose took up most of Butters’ vision.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!” Kenny bounced. “Dude, it’s really gone! Your blind eye isn’t here anymore! Holy shit!”

“Does it look familiar? What color is it?” Butters couldn't keep his voice down. His parents could probably hear him downstairs.

“It’s blue, but not light blue like yours. It’s darker.” Kenny squinted. “It does look familiar, but I know too many people with blue eyes to tell you for sure.”

“My phone. I gotta see it!” He pushed Kenny back as he fished out his phone. Silencing his alarm, he pulled up the camera. 

His soulmate’s eye was the color of sapphires with a clean, white sclera. No scars or tears, just a perfectly normal eye. Butters never wanted to look away. This was a part of his soulmate. This eye had seen the face of the person who had the other half of himself. It had watched them through all their firsts: their first kiss, their first stage recital, their first time behind the wheel of a car, their first everything! If this eye could talk, Butters would listen to whatever it said with a joyous glee.

Kenny pressed against his side.

“Dude, take a selfie, but don’t let anyone see your eye. This’ll be a teaser for the party,” Kenny suggested.

Butters nodded, holding the phone out. He winked his soulmate’s eye as Kenny flashed a peace sign. Before he could post it to his account, Kenny instructed him to send it to him.

“You still need to get ready and show your parents,” Kenny reminded. “I also need to fish out my present for you. You’ll love it.” He grinned in a way that Butters just knew whatever the present was, it would have to stay hidden in the back corner of his closet.

“Oh, right! Mom and Dad!” Butters bolted towards the door. Kenny lunged after him, grabbing his ankles and nearly taking Butters down to the floor with him.

“Shirt, dude. Get dressed first.” Kenny released his ankles. "This is your last chance to prove you're responsible to your parents, remember?"

Butters' mouth rounded into an o-shape. That’s right. Today especially he had to come off as mature as possible.

* * *

Butters’ mom and dad sat at the kitchen table with his aunt and her new husband. While Butters’ family liked him well enough, Butters could see the visible relief on his parents’ faces when he interrupted whatever his new uncle was ranting about. Given the date, Butters assumed it was something to do with the government and the Twin Towers, again.

“Mom! Dad! Everyone! Look!” He pointed proudly. “It happened! My eye’s gone.”

His mom put her hands to her mouth. “Oh, Stephen, our little boys growing up. I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Blue, huh?” His dad nodded. “Well, that takes out most of the population.”

Butters puffed out his chest. “Yup. I’ll find them in no time, now.”

“I doubt you’ll find them around here,” his aunt commented, sending a knowing smile towards his parents. “This town is very small. Not like Los Angeles.”

“You know, she’s right,” His dad replied coyly. “Los Angeles would give you a much better chance of finding your soulmate, Butters.”

Butters’ heart skipped a beat. They couldn’t be implying what he thought they were, could they? Could this be his best birthday ever?

His mom hummed. “Nellie, you two live in Los Angeles. Maybe he could come to stay there sometime.”

“I don’t see why not. We recently moved next to an excellent school, as a matter of fact.” His aunt rested her head on her husband’s shoulder. “Plenty of nice young women there who could be his soulmate. Maybe he could come and go to school there.”

Butters voice came out as a squeak. “Can I? Can I really?”

Every adult turned and smiled at him. It took all of Butters' composure not to let out a scream of excitement.

This was the best birthday ever! After months of sowing the idea in his parents’ heads, Butters reaped his reward! Finally, an escape from this backwater town and his parents was in his grasp.

“Thank you so much!” He blurted out then quickly recomposed himself. “I mean, thank you very much for being so kind. I promise I won’t cause any trouble. Not a bit, no sirree.” 

His mom nodded. “We know you won’t. If you keep your grades up, you can go there next year.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’ll work my hardest this year.” He bounced on his toes. “I can’t believe I getta search for my soulmate in the big city! I’m sure I’ll find her in no time now. I can bring her here to visit, too.”

_But only to visit,_ He added to himself. Once he and his soulmate were together, he would make sure they never stayed in a small, strange town like South Park for more than a week. 

He clasped his hands together. “I’ll show her all around where I grew up. We can hold hands at Stark’s pond and sit on one of the old park swings and—”

“Now don’t get ahead of yourself.” His dad laughed. “Finding your soulmate is tricky, even in a big city. “

“And who knows, maybe you won’t even need to go,” his aunt told him. “Sometimes you find your soulmate right under your very nose.” She touched noses with her husband. “Isn’t that right, hubby?”

_Or right at your husband’s funeral,_ Butters thought, but didn’t dare say aloud. Instead, he thanked his family again before turning to head back to his room to tell the good news to Kenny.

Halfway up the stairs, he paused to check his reflection in the glass of a picture frame. His younger, more nervous, self smiled back at him as he sat with his hands crossed in his lap.

“What I wouldn’t give to tell you everything is going to turn out just fine,” He whispered to the photo, before hurrying back to his room. 

He had a party to prepare for.

* * *

The party wasn't nearly as lit as Kenny had promised when he greeted Kyle out front. It was a solid B minus in Kyle’s party opinion.

The local band played covers of good songs and the food had variety and quality flavor. Kyle assumed if Butters didn't need to invite his elderly family members, there would be more teen-friendly activities.

Kyle searched across the back yard for the birthday boy. 

Butters stood next to his aunt, nodding to whatever she was saying, but his expression said he wasn't listening. 

He cranked his head around. Was Butters looking for Stan?

When Kyle arrived and went up to wish Butters happy birthday, he had asked if Butters had any clue who his soulmate might be.

Butters had replied with a shrug, “Dunno, but it looks familiar, don't it? I feel like I already know ‘em,” he laughed a little then before adding, “but everyone feels like that about their soulmate, I bet.”

Kyle had just nodded. He thought Stan should just be an adult about this whole soulmate thing and come tell Butters what happened — instead of moping about it. 

But that wasn't his decision to make for his best friend. If Stan wanted to suffer, he can. 

Kenny came from behind and elbowed Kyle in the ribs. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked with a smirk. “Jealous of the birthday boy? Well don’t you worry, you only have until May to start your lifelong search for love.”

Kyle snorted. “I don’t really care.”

“Suuuure you don’t.” Kenny took a drink of his soda. 

Kyle tapped his fingers against his thigh a moment before carefully asking, “Kenny, if you found out your soulmate was someone you knew, a friend even, what would you do?”

Kenny shrugged, “I don’t know. Pull them aside and make sure they understand that I can’t give them much more than love ‘cause I’m dirt poor?”

“No, but what if it was someone you knew well, but you didn’t feel love towards, or not, like, romantic love anyway?” Kyle rephrased. “If you had the choice, would you tell them?”

Kenny furrowed his brows a moment. The look that Kyle knew all too well came across his face. It was the face Mysterion wore when they used to play superheroes. the expression of someone solving a math problem, but with clues instead of numbers.

“ _I_ would, yes.” he replied in a deadpan.

Kyle knew he was pushing his luck, but he asked anyway, “What if you were dating someone else?”

Then a light of realization shone across Kenny’s face. He finished his drink before hooking an arm around Kyle’s. As he dragged him out of the crowd towards a quiet corner of the yard, Kenny tossed his cup in one of the trash cans that peppered the party.

He then spun Kyle around before hissing, “You know who Butters’ soulmate is, don’t you?”

Kyle didn’t answer.

Kenny frowned. “Is it Stan? Is that why he’s not here?”

Kyle didn’t answer once again.

“Well,” Kenny blew a breath out, running a hand through his hair. “Shit. That's...shit. How’s Wendy handling it? Does she know? Bebe and Red said she wasn’t feeling well when they showed up.”

“I drove him to her house this morning,” Kyle admitted, hoping if Wendy told Red and Bebe, the two wouldn’t blab. “I can only assume they're broken up. I feel bad for them both.”

“That can’t be a nice way to break-up, no,” Kenny agreed somberly. He leaned against the fence, looking out over the party. “How long is Stan going to put off telling Butters?”

“Don't know. For as long as possible, I think.” Kyle slumped down to the ground. “You know how he is.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do.” Kenny nodded.

“Ignorance is bliss.” Kyle sighed. “You know, I always heard that the universe wouldn't give you a soulmate that couldn't love you back. Neither of them is into boys, so I don't get why he thinks he'll _have_ to date Butters. That's been bugging me, honestly.”

“You think they’re friend soulmates?” Kenny gently tapped Kyle’s leg with the toe of his beat-up sneakers. 

“Yes, but Stan is acting like he doesn’t have a choice if it's romantic.” Kyle rested his chin in his palm. “I just don't get it, Kenny. Even if Butters is his one exception to being straight, why is he freaking out about it? His chance at trying for happiness lives, like, four doors down!”

Kenny chuckled, then stooped down to throw an arm over Kyle’s shoulder. He tutted at him. “Oh, Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, my sweet, nativé Kyle. It’s a very simple answer.”

Kyle pushed him away. “The simple answer here is for him to just go talk to Butters. I bet if Butters at least knew then—”

“If Butters at least knew what?” Butters tilted his head as he walked up. 

Kyle froze. Luckily Kenny cooly explained away the question with “It's a birthday surprise.” 

Butters’ face lit up. “Another one? This is the most surprise-filled birthday I have ever had. Is it as good as the ones I got from my parents?”

Kenny coyly remarked, “Maybe though, going to live in Los Angeles for a year to look for your soulmate is a pretty hard surprise to top.”

 

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Your parents are letting you move to the west coast?”

 

“To live for a year with my aunt and her new husband, yeah! As long as I keep my grades up, they said I could. I spend all the last year laying down hints for it.” Butters looked over his shoulder then asked, “can I sit with you fellas a minute or two? I need a break.”

“Sure thing. Make room for the birthday boy,” Kenny ordered Kyle playfully. Kyle picked himself up on his hands and scooted over for Butters to sit between them.

“Thanks a bunch. If I had to greet another distant relative, I was gonna go bonkers.” Butters rested his head back and shut his eyes. “Every one of them says they know a girl with my soulmate's eye color.” A sigh. “I wish it were that easy to find them. Maybe it will be, once I get to the West Coast.”

Kyle squirmed, biting the inside of his cheek. It would be so easy to tell him. All he’d have to say is ‘Hey, Butters, just walk down the block to find your soulmate!’ but he held his tongue. 

Kenny pushed Butters’ shoulder. “You'll find them, dude. Then you two can go skipping off into the sunset and, I don't know, makeout or whatever.”

“Unless they're platonic,” Kyle said before he could stop himself.

Kenny shrugged. “Besties can kiss, too.” He wiggled his eyebrows at both of them. “I can help prove that if you would like.” 

Kyle snorted a laugh. Butters looked to his lap. He opened his mouth to speak when his phone began to ring. He took it from his jacket pocket.

“It's Stan,” he chirped. His cheeks went pinkish and a smile grew across his face.

“I, uh, bet he's calling to wish you happy birthday,” Kyle offered as Butters unlocked his phone.

“I hope so.” Butters held the phone to his ear. “Hello, Stan? Is that you? Are you feeling better?”

Kenny and Kyle exchanged considered looks as Butters listened to whatever Stan was saying. 

“The party? Well, it doesn't seem like it'll end anytime soon. Which ain't bad, don't get me wrong, but I'm pooped already. ... I don't know about that. Um, one sec.” He covered the receiver. “Stan wants me to go over and talk to him. Think you two can cover for me if anyone asks?” 

Kyle nodded instantly, proud that Stan was finally acting like an adult. “Yeah, of course, you go.” 

To the phone, Butters said, “Ok, I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. I’ll see you soon, Stan.” Then he stood, brushing the dirt off his pants. 

“What does he want to talk about?” Kenny inquired, pulling at some grass as if he hadn’t just asked a loaded question.

“I dunno, but he said it was really important and I had to come before he ‘lost his nerve,’” Butters air quoted, “but I don’t get what he means by that.”

“Maybe he’s giving you an embarrassing present,” Kenny teased. 

Butters blushed. “Boy howdy, I hope not. I already had to walk around with my pockets full of those flavored condoms you shoved in my hands this morning. I don’t wanna have to do that again.”

Kenny smiled proudly as Kyle fixed him with a disappointed, but not that surprised look. He ignored the judging look before shooing Butters off.

“You thanked me for them with a smile, so they counted as great presents,” Kenny remarked coyly. “But now, you should get going. If you’re fast, you can sneak past your parents in the kitchen and make it to Stan’s before they notice.”

“Right. See ya, fellas. Thanks a bunch!” Butters waved, then headed to slip out of his birthday party.

Kyle sighed. To Kenny, he questioned, “How do you think this will turn out?”

Kenny watched as Butters slid through the backdoor. He lifted a shoulder. 

“Best case scenario, they get over themselves and except this change in plans.”

“And what’s the worse?”

“They don’t.”


	3. Chapter 3

Butters balanced the paper plate in one hand as he knocked on the Marsh’s door.

He wasn’t sure why he felt so excited. Sure, he wanted to see Stan on his birthday. They were friends, but this excitement felt weird. 

He rolled back on his heels, looking down the street towards his house. Thus far, no one came running down the street to drag him back. Luckily, his parents had been so caught up in boasting about how proud they were of Butters' milestone, that Butters easily snuck past them and out through the garage.

The world was so much deeper now. The depth he’d lost in fourth grade had returned in brilliant vigor. All thanks to his soulmate.

Whomever she was, he would have to thank her so much when they finally met. He just hoped she wasn’t upset about getting his crummy eye. 

That was all the more reason he had to buckle down and try to find her! 

The door opened as his mind drifted once again to the juice scene.

“Oh, Butters, um, what a surprise.” Mrs. Marsh’s voice took him out of his revelry. 

“Heya, Mrs. Marsh!” He greeted. “I know Stan is sick and all, but he called me to come over.” Butters raised the paper plate. “I brought him some cake from the party.”

Mrs. Marsh smiled softly, stepping aside. “You’re very sweet. He’s up in his room.”

Butters nodded, coming inside. He told her his thanks and started up the stairs. 

“Happy birthday, Butters. I'm so, so happy for you.” She wore a faraway expression as she wandered into her living room. Butters decided not to question it, instead heading straight to Stan’s room.

After knocking once, he heard Stan tell him to come in. His heart quickened for a reason Butters didn’t know. Taking a breath, he forced himself to calm down before opening the door.

Stan sat on the trunk at the foot of his bed. His back curved forward. Drops of water dripped from his hair onto his arms. He must have just taken a shower, though it didn't appear he shaved yet. Black stubble peppered his chin and around his mouth. 

Butters told Stan once that he thought he looked nice with some facial hair and wondered why he always shaved it off. To which Stan laughed and replied, _“Thanks, but Wendy’s not a fan. She wouldn't admit it, but I can tell. To keep my future soulmate happy, I’ll shave every day for her.”_

“Hey,” Butters greeted, shutting the door behind him, “I brought you cake, to help you feel better. It has raspberry filling.” He moved the plate in a circle with a wide smile. 

“Ok, thanks. Set it down somewhere,” Stan muttered without looking up. 

Butters took a few steps, but when Stan didn’t get up, took a few more to the side to set the cake on his desk.

They stayed in awkward silence for a few moments. Butters pulled at a hangnail, shifting his weight from one side to the other. 

Why was he feeling so nervous? It’s not like he was in any big hurry to get back to the party or even worried Stan would give him an inappropriate gift like Kenny had. Still, sweat pricked on his skin, and his heart thudded loudly against his rib cage.

Finally, he opened his mouth when he heard Stan mumbling something.

“Ok, I can do this. I can do this. It’s not weird. It’s not weird. I can do this.”

Butters raised a concerned eyebrow. “Can do what? Is something the matter?”

A shaking breath, then Stan slowly replied, “Ok, so, um, you know how it’s your birthday today?”

“Yeah?”

“And how on your sixteenth birthday, you get your soulmate’s eye?” 

“Yeah?”

“Well, ah, damnit,” Stan tensed, “just rip that damn bandaid off, Stan. Stop being a baby!” With that, Stan turned his face up towards Butters. 

The eye Butters had spent years staring at in the mirror, but that never looked back, met his gaze.

His jaw dropped. His legs turned to jello. He had to hold tight to the desk or risk falling over. The sweat across his skin increased as his stomach did a backflip.

“Holy moly,” he forced out, “but, but...”

Stan pursed his lips. “Yeah, I know,” he took a breath, “but it’s ok.” He stood, using the bed as support. “Look, it’s ok. I have this all figured out.”

Butters’ mind whirled. How could Stan have this figured out? They couldn’t be soulmates. They were friends, and not even best friends, _just_ friends. 

Well, ok, sure, Butters did have the littlest bit of a crush on him back in fourth and fifth grade, but Butters had a little schoolboy crush on all his friends at some point or another. Stan wasn’t any more special than Kenny or Craig or anyone else!

“But, W-Wendy,” Butters floundered for his words. “You’re dating Wendy.”

Stan flinched. “I was, and I will be again soon.” He put his palms together before pointing the tips of this fingers towards Butters. “Look, it took me a few hours, but I know what this is. What we are.”

“Soulmates.” The word felt heavy on Butters’ tongue. 

“Well, yeah, but we can’t be romantic soulmates,” Stan told him, “because, for that, we would both have to like boys. Listen, I asked my Uncle Jimbo and Ned about it once. They said they only thought of each other as friends, but really good friends, nothing sexual or romantic about it.” 

Stan puffed out his chest in pride. “So that’s that. You’re straight, and this is all there is to it. We're just meant to be friends only.”

Butters blinked hard before shaking his head. “What? Stan, I’m...I’m not...” He swallowed hard. “I do like boys, and girls, and all kinds of people.”

Stan’s smile fell. “No, you don’t. You can’t. You’ve only ever talked about girls anymore.”

Butters defended, “I don’t talk about ballet anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still like it!”

He just got picked on and made uncomfortable enough about it that keeping quiet about to worked out best. Eric didn't mock him about ballet anymore. His dad didn't give him that weird look about his boy crushes anymore.

“No, that’s not true. It can’t be true. You’re straight, so stop lying,” Stan ordered. He gripped his hands into fists as he narrowed his eyes at him.

Butters shook his head. “I ain’t lying!”

“Yes, you are, because I’m not straight, and one of us has to be, so I can have a life with Wendy like I planned!” Stan all but shouted. His face went round in shock, eyebrows raising, mouth falling open, and eyes widening. 

He slapped a hand over his mouth as if he could pull the words back in.

Turning his gaze away, he muttered scornfully, “You know what, just...go.” He sat down on his bed, running his hand through his hair. 

Butters turned to head towards the door. His hand hovered over the knob a moment, before dropping to his side.

Why should he be the one to go away? This wasn’t his fault! So what if Stan couldn’t be with Wendy anymore? That wasn’t nearly as bad as what Butters lost! 

If either of them had the right to be upset, it was Butters!

He spun around and stomped in front of Stan. He placed his hands on his hips.

“You know, this ain’t how I planned this either.” He snapped. 

“Yeah, clearly,” Stan snorted.

Butters took a finger and jabbed it at Stan’s chest. “I. Had. Plans. Too.” Throwing his hands up, he continued, “I just got my parents to agree to let me take my senior year in Los Angeles with my aunt. That way I could look for my soulmate there, then, hopefully, never come back. That was my ticket out of this stupid, old town!” 

He crossed his arms, growling, “There goes that — because of you!”

Stan gritted his teeth, glaring. “Fuck you. Get out.” He pointed towards the door. 

Butters was about to respond with a sharp ‘fine’ when Stan reached for his phone on the bedside table. He missed, hitting his knuckles against the lamp.

Butters’ revelry played in his head, where he helped his soulmate learn to live without stereopsis cues. Something warm filled his chest. He’d felt this before, but he never could fully put a name to it.

Butters reached out his hand and set it on Stan’s and guided it over the top of the phone. That warm feeling from before grew where their skin touched.

They’d held hands during field trips before or hugged after winning a particularly challenging game of street hockey. He noticed a slight warmth feeling then, too but figured it was just their body heat. 

Was it connected to them being soul mates or was he putting too much thought into it?

“It takes a while to get used to,” He admitted softly. “You have to learn different ways of focusing to figure out how far away something is. I’m sorry you have to deal with this. That’s not fair at all.”

Stan let out a breath. The tension in his shoulders slacked. 

“It’s not your fault.” Stan sighed. “I'm the one who needs to be sorry. I just wanted _so bad_ for you to fix this.”

“‘Fix this’?” Butters echoed.

Stan pulled his hand away before setting it in his lap. Butters’ hands to balled his hands into fists to keep from taking it back.

“If you didn’t meet all the requirements to be a romantic soulmate, then it didn’t matter how I'd ever feel. You would fix the mess the universe threw us in and we'd just be friends. I could get with Wendy again, but that didn’t happen. I got frustrated.” Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Can I sit?” Butters asked. Stan nodded and he sunk down beside him. 

Butters ran through his options in his head. He could offer to try and be platonic soulmates so Stan could be with Wendy anyway. If he and Stan were meant to be husbands, would Wendy want to try and be with both of them anyway? Or maybe he could share Stan with her, if it came to that. 

Or maybe he would just stay quiet.

Leaning towards the final option, Butters didn't notice Stan had moved closer and looked closely at his face until he spoke.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” 

Butters started. “What?”

“When you grow up, what do you want to be?”

Butters was surprised to find that it wasn't his go to answer that came out of his mouth.

“What I want to be, or what I'll do because I'm good at it?” At Stan's confused expression, he elaborated, “I _want_ to be a professional artist, but it's not that practical. I'm _good at_ business management, though, so it's what I'll probably do. Or nursing. Nursing is always in high demand. Why do you ask?” 

Stan looked at his hands.

“I don't know much about you, even though we're friends. I don't know enough to decide if I want to fight the universe about this.” He flopped back. "You're a huge monkey wrench in all my plans, but I guess I could change them to include you.” Stan forced a smile at him. 

“A monkey wrench? I ain't-a monkey wrench.” Butters frowned. “If anything, you're the monkey wrench here. My parents ain't gonna let me go to my aunt's now. All you gotta do is replace me with Wendy.”

“Yes, let me just paste your face over her’s in all my dreams. It'll work great. You'll look amazing in a size eight.” Stan rolled his eyes. 

Butters looked down at his bulky build then back up.

“I could pull off a size eight,” he replied in complete seriousness.

They met each other gaze for a second, before busting out into snickers. 

Stan waved his hand around. “Ok, ok, let's just both agree that any plans we had are in the trash.” He sighed, but not unhappily. “So, what do we do now?”

Butters checked his phone. No messages asking about his location yet, but they'd come sooner or later. 

“I have to get back sometime before I'm really missed.” He winced. The thought of being pushed around to talk to different people about the same topics made his stomach flop.

Sitting and arguing with Stan was better than dealing with his grandma's passive aggressive comments or his new uncle's 9-11 rants any day.

“Oh,” Stan pushed himself up. 

“You can come if you want.” Butters sounded more eager than he meant to. The thought of having his soulmate as support against his family was tantalizing, he had to admit. At the very least he could rub it in his grandma’s face that he wasn’t a loser like she quietly claimed when she arrived at the party.

“No offense, but I nearly broke my neck walking down the stairs to get orange juice earlier,” Stan declined. “I'll probably need to go see if we kept any of Grandpa's canes before I go back outside.”

“Sorry,” Butters apologized automatically. 

“It's fine.” Stan stretched. He looked at his phone screen. “I should get Dad to help me with that soon, actually. I think I need to talk to Wendy again, now that my head's on straight and I have a better grasp on this.”

Butters stood. He twiddled his thumbs a moment.

“I can walk you there if you'd like. If I explain what's going on to my parents, I'm sure they'll let it pass. It is my birthday after all.” He smiled, silently pleading Stan to take the offer. 

Stan held his lower lip between his teeth before slowly nodding.

* * *

Stan tented his fingers as he spoke. “So, um, yeah, that's what's happened.”

Wendy had her eyes fixed on the kitchen table top and her half-finished dinner. She had her thinking face on, the same one she used when she determined if an Instagram photograph had been photoshopped. 

She was searching his story for lies.

Butters sat in the Testaburger's living room with Wendy's parents. The Jeopardy theme drifted into the kitchen.

When they arrived, Wendy’s father fixed Stan with a glare so sharp, he felt like he might fall to ribbons then and there. It took Wendy scolding him to finally get her father to turn his gaze elsewhere.

She let out a breath. “So do you love him, and just didn't realize it until now?”

Stan denied, “No. I don't know how I feel. I might, or I might not.” He set a hand on hers. “Is that ok?”

She smiled softly the set her other hand on his. “Yes, Stan, that's ok.” 

“You know, Butters said on the way over it would be ok with him if I was with both of you if things go romantic,” He offered hopefully. Even if all his plans were in the trash, maybe he could still salvage some of the ones he’d made with Wendy. It couldn’t be that hard to slip Butters in there with them. Surely Wendy and Butters could end up being the best of besties, right?

She breathed a laugh through her nose and shook her head. “No, but thank you.”

He deflated. Back in the trash his plans go...

She squeezed his hand. 

“Of all the ways our relationship could end, this is one of the best ways. I don't mind it.” Her smile was forced. “If you decide you love him and want to marry him, I don't mind. If not, and I'm available when you figure it out, we can try again.” 

She continued, sincerely, “I want you to be happy. According to the universe, you'll be happiest with Butters.”

“I want you to be happy, too!” Stan exclaimed. His chest hurt. “It's just...I thought I made you happy...”

“You did. You do,” she reassured, “but I don't need a partner to be happy. You're like the chocolate shell on ice cream.” She patted his cheek. “You made everything a thousand and one times better. That's how it'll be with you and Butters, I'm sure. You were happy apart, but you'll be happier together.” 

“Was I at least the name brand chocolate shell?” He feebly joked. 

She hugged him in response. Stan melted into her embrace for possibly the last time before wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly to his chest. 

He prayed when Wendy found her soulmate, they were the chocolate shell and the whipped cream on her ice cream.

* * *

Butters walked with his hand not quite touching Stan's and had to fight the urge to just grab his hand. 

“So, Wendy's not mad at me?” Butters asked, nervously. He'd been on the receiving end of Wendy's wrath a few times before when they were kids. He could almost feel the sensation of her selfie stick slapping him across the nose as she and Stan walked out of the Testaburger kitchen.

“What?” Stan paused before carefully he stepped off the curb at the crosswalk. “No, she's not. She’s happy for me.”

“Good, good,” Buttered tried to sound convinced, but he made a note to lock his window and door extra tight and clear all his browser history tonight, just in case. 

They came to a stop in front of Stan's house a few moments later. The sound of music from down the road told Butters that the party was still going, despite his absence. 

Had his parents told everyone about him and Stan? He could almost see his parents gushing about it as if Butters finding his soulmate was their accomplishment and not a freak accident of the universe.

At the Marsh’s front door, Butters offered to help Stan back up his stairs to his room, but Stan declined. 

“I'm going to see if Dad can help me search for Grandpa's cane. He can help if I need it,” He told him. Tapping his fingers against this thigh, Stan took a breath.

“Hey, Butters, can I ask you something really quick?” He didn’t wait for Butters to answer. “Why did you want to leave South Park so badly? This place is weird, but it’s not the worst town. We could be Middle Park.” He added the last part with a dry laugh when Butters’ face fell into an expressionless mask.

“Oh, I, um,” Butters chewed his lip. He looked at the party then down the other side of the street. This was something he’d only ever told Kenny, but Stan was his soulmate. He wouldn’t tease him or tell him he was overreacting, would he? The universe couldn’t give Butters a soulmate that would react like that.

Even knowing that, his usual answer of ‘there’s no growth here. A business venture here is a waste of time’ still pressed against his teeth.

He took a breath and let it out in a low whistle.

“Promise not to tell?” He asked.

Stan cocked an eyebrow. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, sure, man. Scouts’ honor.”

“Ok,” Butters breathed, “so, I don’t want to stay here because — and don’t laugh at me — I...” He forced his reason out before he lost his nerve, “Idon’twanttokeepgrowinguparoundmyparents.”

Stan blinked then titled his head. “What? I only heard ‘I don’t’ and ‘parents’.”

Butters rubbed the knuckles of his left hand with the fingers of his right. “I don’t want to keep growing up around Mom and Dad longer than I have too. I know it sounds silly, but I’m sick of having them in my life, you know?” He shrugged, refusing to meet Stan’s eyes. 

“Yeah, I think so. Your parents suck. No offense.” He added quickly. “I just mean your dad is—”

“A huge asshole? He is; they both are.” Butters relaxed with a chuckle. Stan’s face didn’t hold any mockery. Just curiosity, understanding and the smallest bit of pity. While the pity bothered Butters, he didn’t comment on it.

Instead he went on, “I’m, just a little, _scared_ of staying around here, or any place like here, that they’ll somehow _mold_ me,” he moved his hands as if they were shaping a vase, “into another link in my terrible family chain, like how Grandma did to Dad.”

He dropped his hands limply to his sides. “Please don’t tell anyone about that, though. If this gets back to them, they might think of it as a challenge and...” 

Butters couldn’t make himself finish the thought.

Stan let out a low, long breath. The pity was even more pronounced now, yet so was the understanding. 

“Wow, no, I won’t tell anyone. I get it. Believe me.” Stan pointed his thumb over his shoulder at his house. “My dad isn’t the person I’d like to grow up to be either.” Under his breath, he added to himself, “not that I’m doing such a great job at avoiding that...”

“Yeah, it’s a worry I’ve had since middle school,” Butters confined. “When I’m an adult, I want to come by here, say hi, wane nostalgically a bit, then get out as fast as possible, without my parent's figuring out why.”

Stan nodded. He looked down at Butters for a long, uncomfortable moment, before nodding again.

“I’ve decided something,” he proclaimed. 

“You have? What?”

He pointed a finger at Butters’ cheek, though Butters assumed he meant to point at his nose. 

“I’m going to try everything I can to get you out of here,” He stated with an air of pride around him.

“What?” Butters felt his cheeks grow warm. Didn’t he realize how hard that would be? For the last few years, Butters had been working on different ideas to escape, and he still didn’t have one without a major flaw in it.

“I don’t actually care where I end up, as long as I ended up with someone who loved me. If the universe says that’s supposed to be you, then so be it. ” Stan dropped his hands to his hips. 

“S-Stan, you don’t gotta do that!” Butters gasped “It’s too much trouble. Living without support is hard — super hard! Not something a kid fresh out of high school can do easily.”

Stan raised his shoulders then let them fall. “You will have support. You’ll have me, and I’ll have my parents, if it comes down to that. Besides, since it seems my other plans are gone, I might as well work to make some new ones. At least, I have a clear goal post to work towards.”

That warm feeling in Butters chest flared up, as it had done years ago in the playground restroom. He felt dizzy with delight but didn’t fall over — somehow.

“Really?” He asked, instead of arguing. “Even if I’m just your Universe Appointed Best Friend?”

Stan replied with a grin, “Freinds are just as important as lovers, dude.”

“Thank you.” Butters smiled back, and he swore, just for a second, he saw Stan’s balance waver.

Before they could continue, Butters phone pinged rapidly several times. 

“You should get that,” Stan told him.

Butters took out his phone. For the most part, he’d been ignoring it since he left the party. He turned his data off on the walk to Wendy's, so Stan's balance had his full attention. It must have connected to the Marsh's wifi.

There were so many notifications across his lock screen that Butters phone lagged a second when he unlocked it.

The discord and private message chats he had for cheerleading and choir boomed with messages and @’s for his username. Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook were no different.

He swiped all those away, leaving just the text messages. 

The oldest came from Kyle, saying, “Did Stan tell you,” with another one an hour or so later telling him, “Tell Stan I’m proud he acted like an adult about this.”

One from Kenny said, “Your mom just made an announcement that you found your soulmate. She didn’t say who, but Kyle told me. ;D Put my gift to good use, you two love birds <3”

Lastly, the ones from his mom. Somewhere her excited replied to Butters when he explained why he had left the party, but those weren’t the ones that made his phone go off.

“I told everyone at the party when they asked where you went. Are you and Stan coming back soon?”

Butters suppressed a groan. He quickly replied, “I’ll be back soon. Had to walk Stan home safely.”

He hoped the last part would give him a little more time to doddle. He didn't want to go back to the party. How was he supposed to explain that he and Stan were soulmates, yes, but they didn’t know if his feelings were romantic or not? 

If they were, how would his classmates react?

Everyone who knew Stan also knew how deeply devoted to Wendy he was. Would they think it was Butters fault for Wendy’s heartbreaking? 

Enough time on the cheerleading squad taught Butters the full, devastating power of girls when one of their friends had been wronged. 

Praying he had at least one birthday wish left, he wished that Wendy would explain what happened to all her friends before Butters had to spend an entire cheer practice dealing with glares and the cold shoulder. 

“Do you need to head home?” Stan asked as he shifted to the side to side. He didn't seem nervous. He moved just to have something to do, Butters assumed.

Butters nodded, putting his phone back in his pocket. 

For the third time that day, the words Butters would have said were not the ones that came out.

“Stan, can I ask a birthday gift from you?” He blurted out.

Stan raised his eyebrows. “I did get you a card, but since I spent all my cash on Wendy and my date— which I need to cancel, now that I think about it — it's not that flashy. I can go get it if you want.”

“You can give that to me tomorrow.” He shook his head. “Right now, I really just want to sit on your lawn for, like, five minutes and hold your hand.”

“What? Why?” His face reddened.

“I think we both know why, Stan.” Butters laughed. “So please? Come on, let me hold your hand. We can figure out what we want it to mean later.” He held out his hand, palm up, to him.

Stan broke out a smile with a chuckle and head shake before setting his hand in his. The warm feeling spread from the contact, making Butters grin brightly back.

Stan pulled Butters into the front step, and there they sat for the next ten minutes, both contented to wait until later to start unraveling what the universe wanted them to be.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I did not expect this story to get as many comments and reblogs as it did. You all are much too kind! I hope the ending was ok for everyone (especially those on Tumblr who didn't have the benefit of the ambiguous relationship tag like everyone on AO3).  
> I have one more pairing in this AU I’d like to explore with Wendy and hers, but I don’t know when I’ll get around to writing it. ^^; 

**Author's Note:**

> AN: [My Writing Tumblr](https://www.uas-fics.tumblr.com)  
> Next update will be next Thrusday.


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